


If I Falter

by PrioritiesSorted



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Post-Finale, The Gaang in their twenties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrioritiesSorted/pseuds/PrioritiesSorted
Summary: “I made a mistake, Toph.”“Evidently,” is all the reply Toph gives, and Katara has to resist the urge to snap at her. Instead, she takes a deep, shuddering breath.“I think I—” her hands are shaking, and she buries her face in her knees. Her eyes are screwed shut as she tries again, letting the words fall out of her in a rush: “I think I’m in love with Aang.”
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 96
Collections: Fave atla fics





	If I Falter

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh... so when I watched AtLA for the first time I did NOT like Kataang. Then I got super into LoK and ended up reading a lot of fic that involved married parents Katara and Aang in the background, and I liked that fine. I came to the realisation that I very much could have been into Kataang if Bryke hadn't chosen to execute the romantic element of their relationship the way they did. 
> 
> So I guess this is the romance I would have wanted for them.

There’s a dot on the horizon, and its shape is so dear that Katara recognises Appa instantly. It’s been longer than she would like since she’s seen her friends, and she finds herself bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, as if she could propel herself into the sky to meet them. It’s been longer still since they were all in the South Pole; it must have been Sokka’s twenty first birthday, when Katara was drunk enough on happiness and Zuko’s plum wine to talk about the dream she had for a bending school. 

Five years later, and the school takes pride of place in the centre of the ever-growing village, but they will not be toasting it with plum wine tonight. Katara does not begrudge Zuko his absence—Mai’s pregnancy has been difficult from the outset, and with a scant two months until the baby’s arrival, he is reluctant to leave her side—but it feels to her like the end of an era. Their collective responsibilities have never seemed so _adult,_ though she knows how ridiculous that sounds. She and Sokka have been rebuilding an almost decimated community; Zuko has been Fire Lord since he was sixteen, and Suki has been leading the Kyoshi warriors for even longer; Aang is the _Avatar,_ and Toph—well, Toph has been doing pretty much whatever she wants, but Katara doesn’t imagine that will change any time soon. For all that the war had stripped their childhoods from them, forced them to grow up far too fast, Katara still can’t get over the strangeness of watching Sokka sit down every evening to carve another line into the pendant he’s still too nervous to give to Suki. The idea of Zuko and Mai becoming parents is even stranger. 

Katara can’t deny that she had always secretly thought _she_ would be the first to settle down, to have a family. It’s still something she wants, but the independence she has been allowed over the last decade has been fulfilling in a way she had never anticipated. She’s hardly been alone, in any case; she’s had her brother and her friends by her side, as well as a few boys who expressed the desire to get to know her better, though none of them were captivating enough to distract her from her work for too long. She’s itching to show off the results of the last five years, and as the Appa-shaped-dot grows larger and larger, Katara runs to find Sokka and Suki. 

When Appa finally touches down on the outskirts of the town, Sokka, Suki, and Katara are huddled together and waiting. They’re practically vibrating as they watch Aang guide Toph down from the seat, and then it’s a rush to see who can make it across the snow first. Suki tackles Aang, and Katara will deny to her dying breath that she elbows Sokka out of the way to get to Toph. When Sokka sends them all crashing together in a messy embrace, Katara bursts out laughing; someone’s elbow is under her ribs, and there’s fur tickling her nose, and she’s so happy she can barely breathe. 

* * *

_This wasn’t how she’d planned on spending her twenty second birthday: hacking up a lung, shivering under as many furs as possible while still avoiding suffocation, and feeling thoroughly miserable. It’s her own fault, though she’s loathe to admit it; working herself to the bone travelling between the Northern and Southern Water Tribes, negotiating with Chief Arnook about how many healers he can spare (biting her tongue to stop from pointing out that he doesn’t own his people; if they want to come south there’s very little he can do to stop them), and working to create a program of study for combat bending was bound to catch up to her eventually. Katara only wishes it hadn’t caught up to her_ now, _when she’s supposed to be celebrating with her friends._

_A knock on her door pulls Katara from her misery spiral, and she croaks out a greeting, expecting Sokka or her father. Instead, the door is pushed gently open by Aang, who cradles a steaming bowl of soup in his spare arm._

_“Aang!” is all Katara manages to say before coughing overtakes her again. When she looks back up again, Aang is frowning at her, still standing—slightly stooped, when did he get so tall?—in the doorway. Sokka had sent out hawks when Katara got sick, letting everyone know the party was cancelled, but she doubts any of them made it in time to stop the influx of her loved ones. Aang’s presence now only confirms it. As selfish as it is, Katara’s glad; they might not be able to celebrate, but she thinks that seeing the faces of her friends will do her more good than any of the bitter healing tea she’s choked down over the past three days._

_“Sokka said you were sick, but this is tragic,” Aang says in lieu of a greeting, as Katara recovers herself. She gives him a very half-hearted glare as she burrows further down beneath her pile of furs._

_“At least I don’t think I can talk to Appa,” she grumbles, and Aang lets out a burst of laughter. It’s infectious—his joy always has been—and Katara can’t help smiling as she remembers some of Sokka’s more outlandish fever dreams._

_“There’s no frogs in this, I promise.” Aang says, proffering the bowl with a smile._

_“Good, because it smells amazing.” The steam that wafts around the room is rich and fragrant, unfamiliar and enticing. It occurs to her that Aang must have made it himself, because whatever the soup contains, it’s not a Southern Water Tribe staple._

_Katara extracts her arms from the fur pile with difficulty and makes a grabbing motion for the bowl. Aang looks fond as he passes it over, though Katara thinks there’s something a little hesitant in his expression. As soon as she takes her first spoonful of broth, all other thoughts desert her—the soup is savoury with mushroom, and surprisingly spicy. It warms Katara from top to toe, and she looks up at Aang, surprised._

_“You made this?” she asks, and there’s_ definitely _something a little nervous in his face when he replies._

_“Yes. Some of the new acolytes are from the Fire Nation, and they taught me how. They say it’s good for clearing your head when you’ve got a cold. Do you like it?” Whoever these acolytes are, they know what they’re talking about. The spice is a little more than Katara’s used to, but her sinuses already feel clearer than they have for many days._

_“It’s wonderful, Aang. Thank you.”_

_The tension drops from his body, and he grins. For a moment he’s twelve again rather than twenty, glowing under her approval. He seems to notice at the same moment that she does, and the tension returns._

_Things with Aang have been easy for years now, though Katara still remembers when they weren’t. For a year or so after Sozin’s Comet his hurt, reproachful gaze seemed to follow her everywhere, and Katara had found herself actively avoiding him whenever they were in the same place. Though she’s never made it explicit, Katara thinks Suki must have had a talk with Aang, because his transformation from scorned lover to distant friend had taken place almost overnight. All of a sudden it was as if Katara had been made of glass—he spoke to her only when necessary, never touching her, and Katara hadn’t known whether to be grateful or devastated. She had missed her friend, but knew it was for the best; he needed to move on, and if that was the way he chose to do it then Katara would not begrudge him._

_They had walked a tightrope of careful friendship until Katara turned eighteen, and Aang returned from a visit to the Earth Kingdom with stars in his eyes and a blush on his cheek when he mentioned a girl he’d met there. It was as if a weight had been lifted from Katara’s chest, and she’d happily teased him along with Sokka; when the time came for them to say goodbye she only hesitated for a moment before throwing her arms around him, trying not to notice how much taller he was than the last time she’d hugged him, how long ago that must have been. He was smiling when they pulled away, and something that had been missing between them fell back into place._

_It’s been four years since then, and their friendship has only grown stronger. It’s strong enough now that moments like this—when Aang grows suddenly fearful he’s stepped over some invisible line and Katara wonders how much of Suki’s little intervention had been thinly veiled threats—are easily dispelled with a smile and a change of subject. Katara pats the furs._

_“Come and sit with me,” she says, and Aang’s smile is relieved. “Tell me how you’re getting on in the Air Temples. I want to hear all of it.”_

_He folds one foot underneath his thigh as he perches on the edge of her bed, and Katara slurps her soup happily as he tells her all about the new air acolytes, and the rebuilding efforts. He’s animated as he speaks, his hands fluttering as he tries to illustrate his point, and for the first time in a week, Katara feels warm._

* * *

Katara’s heart is hammering in her chest as she pushes open the doors of the school building to usher Aang and Toph inside, enough that Toph squeezes her hand gently, comforting. She’s never imagined that Aang and Toph will disapprove of the school—they have supported her unconditionally from the beginning—but it is a project that has been half a decade in the making; Katara has missed birthday gatherings and important events for the sake of realising this dream, and she needs it to have been worth it, for them as much as for her. 

Nor can she deny that she’s particularly anxious to show Aang; part of this whole set-up had been his idea, after all. In the early days of the project—what feels like a lifetime ago now—the plan was for a women’s combat bending school, and while there was support for the idea, it had been proving harder than she imagined to coax the Northern women away from their homes. 

“It’s understandable,” Aang had said pensively. “You’re asking them to choose, to categorise themselves as a fighter or a healer. You’ve never done that to yourself; your combat bending is incredible, but you saved me and Zuko with your healing. It’s all in the balance, in allowing each facet of yourself and your bending to have equal weight.” He shrugged, as if this was utterly obvious, because it was, and Katara should have thought of it months ago. “If you expanded the school to include healing as well—for any gender—then you wouldn’t be asking them to categorise themselves, you’d be asking them to choose between tradition in the North, and freedom in the South.” 

Katara had stared at him, mouth slightly open, before a wide grin spread over her face. 

Now, Katara’s school has men and women studying in both arts. Katara has been surprised to see how many men are more interested in healing than in combat, now that the war is over, and their village is quickly expanding into a town, purely to accommodate the growing number of students. As worried as Katara had been about showing off the school, it all melts away as she watches her students at work. Once the more formal aspects of the tour are over—after they have seen demonstrations, given speeches, and Aang has spoken to every excitable child who tugged on the bottom of his parka—Toph punches her in the arm and says, 

“Not bad, Sugar Queen.” 

Aang’s smile is irrepressible, and Katara is quite literally floating as he sweeps her up into a hug. They hover in the air for a few seconds before touching down again, and he lets her go. 

“This is incredible, Katara,” he says, and the earnestness of his expression makes her blush, momentarily speechless. Before she can gather her thoughts again, attempt a reply, Sokka groans. 

“Fantastic, wonderful, Katara’s a genius, we all know. Now can we _eat something_ about it? I swear that last speech lasted five hours.” 

Aang and Toph have brought fresh produce from the Earth Kingdom, and they eat with enthusiasm until the sun sinks down behind the ice. Any visit from the Avatar is a reason for celebration as far as the Southern Water Tribe is concerned, and there is feasting and music and dancing in the streets until late into the night. Katara never ceases to be moved by the vibrancy of her home as it is now; her childhood had been spent watching it shrinking and shrinking, so to see it bloom never fails to bring tears to Katara’s eyes. 

Nevertheless, it is only a few hours before the gang decides it’s time to step away from the crowds; they get so little time together now that they want to savour every moment. While the tribe continues their festivities, Katara, Sokka, Suki, Aang, and Toph set up a bonfire on the outskirts of town where the faint sounds of celebration can still be heard, muffled by snow and distance. 

The bonfire casts flickering light across the ice, and it’s powerful enough that they’ve all shed their parkas, watching the flames climb higher as they cradle cups of warm sake. Katara ought to be tired after the day she’s had, but there’s still a restless energy buzzing in her bones. The mood seems to be infectious, because Suki’s foot is tapping to the rhythm of the distant drum-beat, and Toph’s fingers are pattering against the sides of her cup. 

Katara can’t tell if it’s her imagination, but the music is growing louder, and the drums are pounding in time with her heart as she rises to her feet. She extends a hand to Suki, who takes it with a grin, and then they’re dancing, whirling around the bonfire, and the laughter that bubbles up from Katara’s chest is light and irrepressible. It doesn’t take long before Toph joins them, then Aang, and finally Sokka, who grumbles that Katara is monopolising his girlfriend as he pulls Suki towards him, only for Suki to spin him around and into a low dip. 

Breathless and joyful, Katara is undeterred by the interruption, and her momentum carries her round and round the fire, grasping hands with Toph, then Suki again, then Sokka, until she goes careening into Aang, who steadies her with a hand at her waist. They only stop for a moment though, and they’ve barely caught their breath before they’re dancing again; Aang releases her waist to spin her beneath his arm, and she lets the world blur before her eyes until he catches her again. Their steps are light and playful and Katara feels the weight of her responsibilities melt away. She remembers another dance—a decade ago, or a lifetime—when she’d let herself get swept up in Aang’s enthusiasm; it’s almost too vivid in her memory, the sparkle and the hope in Aang’s eyes when they had met hers in a cave in the Fire Nation. It was the only time, back then, when she’d thought... _maybe._

Now, they’re panting and dizzy and Aang swings her around one last time before they stumble to a halt. His arm is around her waist while his other hand cradles the back of her neck, Katara’s fingers grasp the tops of his arms for balance and they’re so close she can feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Looking up into his wide, grey eyes, Katara thinks, _please._

As swiftly as it started, everything stops. Aang drops Katara as if she’s burned him, and then he’s gone in a rush of air, snow billowing up behind him as he flees back towards town. Katara can only stare after him. She doesn’t know when flying became falling, but her heart is in her throat, and the butterflies in her stomach have turned suddenly to lead. 

* * *

_“Are you sure about this?”_

_“It’ll be fine, Katara, I promise.”_

_“What if it can’t take our weight?”_

_“It will.”_

_“What if I fall?”_

_“I’ll catch you.”_

_Katara sighs as she looks at the glider in Aang’s hand. It’s seen Aang through countless skirmishes, but it still seems too delicate to bear her weight as well. If she insists, he’ll take them over on Appa, but they won’t be able to see as much of the temple from his back as they will from the glider, and Katara knows how much this means to Aang. The Southern Air Temple is his home, and he’s poured his heart and soul into its restoration. She nods._

_“Okay, let’s go.”_

_Aang’s answering smile is blinding, and despite the nervous rolling of her stomach, Katara can’t bring herself to regret agreeing._

_Still, her heart is in her throat when they step off the edge of the cliff, and then they’re plummeting towards the earth, wind is rushing in her ears and whipping through her hair and Katara panics for a split second before she remembers Aang is with her. It’s precisely that moment when a breeze catches them, and suddenly they’re flying, floating effortlessly. The ground is disappearing beneath them, and Katara can’t help the relieved laughter that escapes her. Aang turns to her, smiling._

_“Not so bad, is it?” he asks, and she shakes her head._

_They don’t even need to get close to the temple to see all the ways it has changed since Katara was last here. Where once they had seemed on the brink of collapse, the towers now reach confidently into the air, and the deathly stillness of the place has evaporated, replaced by an ever-changing pattern of rich yellows, oranges, and reds as the air acolytes go about their daily business._

_Once they’re close enough to make out the details, Katara feels breathless all over again. They dart under arches and skirt up the sides of towers. Around every new corner is another wonder, and Katara whoops in delight as they begin the descent, spiralling around a staircase that winds tightly around one of the tallest spires until they finally touch down in a wide, open courtyard. Katara’s legs are wobbling beneath her, but Aang’s hand at her elbow keeps her upright._

_“Woah,” he says, frowning as she sways a little, finds her balance again. “Are you alright, Katara? We really could have taken Appa, I’m—”_

_“It’s beautiful, Aang,” she cuts him off with a smile and a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”_

_“For what?” he asks. There’s a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips, but his brow is still furrowed, as if he’s studying her. Katara wonders briefly why there are still butterflies in her stomach now she’s back on solid ground._

_“For showing me all this,” she says. “It’s incredible—what you’ve done here is just—how did you manage it so quickly?”_

_Aang shrugs._

_“I had a lot of help,” he says, looking over her shoulder. Katara whips around to see a girl, perhaps a little younger than Aang, walking towards them. She wears the yellow robes of an air acolyte, and her black hair is cropped short; she’s pretty, Katara supposes, with large amber eyes and delicate features. “Katara, this is Mayu. She’s one of the acolytes who joined us from the Fire Nation last year.”_

_“It’s an honour to meet you, Master Katara,” Mayu says, inclining her head in Katara’s direction._

_“And you, Mayu,” Katara says. The formality of the acolyte’s address puts her slightly on edge, and she grasps for something to say that might put them all a little more at ease. “I owe a lot to the Fire Nation acolytes, I hear,” is what she decides on, and Mayu looks surprised. “You’ve been teaching Aang to cook,” Katara explains, and Mayu’s smile is so bright and sudden that it takes Katara a little aback._

_“Avatar Aang is a good student,” she says, and there’s a softness in her voice when she addresses Aang that Katara cannot fail to notice._

_“I had a good teacher,” he replies, a pink flush high on his cheekbones._

_Katara wishes Suki were here, if only to have someone she can raise her eyebrows at. Aang hadn’t said anything about a girl when he’d arrived in the South Pole a week previously, but there’s clearly something between him and his acolyte. As Mayu turns to lead them into the temple proper, Katara gives Aang a gentle nudge in the ribs with her elbow; she looks pointedly at Mayu, then back to Aang, who flushes a yet deeper pink. It’s cute, Katara decides, and she hopes this works out for him as something curls up, heavy and nauseating, in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps the flight hadn’t been such a good idea after all._

* * *

It takes a couple of moments for everyone else to notice that Aang is gone, and yet more for Katara to notice that they’re speaking to her, asking if she’s alright. She doesn’t know what to say; nothing has happened, after all. It is simply that a minute ago they had been dancing, and now they are not. Now Aang is gone, and she’s looking out into the darkness after him, and something has shattered. 

She vaguely registers Sokka and Toph having a whispered argument behind her, then Suki and Sokka are disappearing into the blackness too, and Toph is clearing her throat loudly behind Katara. 

“Alright, Sugar Queen, spill it,” Toph says. “Actually, come back over here where it’s warm. I’m not gonna die of exposure just to hear whatever it is that’s going on with you and Twinkletoes.” 

Her tone is sharp, but she’s gentle as she tugs Katara back towards the fire, unsteady in her thick-soled boots. They sit down on the discarded parkas, and Katara wonders—not for the first time—how Toph manages to make people feel as though they’re being stared at. The silence is oppressive, expectant, and Katara finds herself saying, 

“I made a mistake, Toph.” 

“Evidently,” is all the reply Toph gives, and Katara has to resist the urge to snap at her. Instead, she takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“I think I—” her hands are shaking, and she buries her face in her knees. Her eyes are screwed shut as she tries again, letting the words fall out of her in a rush: “I think I’m in love with Aang.” 

Her body is tense, waiting for Toph’s response, but it doesn’t come. She risks a glance up, but Toph doesn’t look shocked or angry, she just looks like she’s waiting. 

“Did you hear me? I said—” 

“You’re in love with Aang, yeah, I’m blind not deaf,” Toph snorts. “So what’s the problem?” 

“The _problem,_ ” Katara replies, already at the end of her tether, asking herself why Suki couldn’t have stayed behind instead, “is that we’ve worked so hard to make our friendship work, and now I’ve just thrown it all away. I had my shot, and I missed it. I’ve got no right to mess everything up for us now.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Toph says, matter of fact. “You didn’t miss anything, Katara. You didn’t love him back then, not like this.” 

“No, but—” 

“But nothing. If you’d gotten together then, do you really think you’d feel this way about him now? If you’d gotten together then… at best you might have grown to love him, but at worst you’d hate his guts, and honestly I think that’s more likely.” Katara wants to argue—there’s no universe in which she could ever imagine hating Aang—but Toph barrels on without leaving space for her to answer. “You think you would have felt fulfilled, following him around the world? You think you would have been content as _The Avatar’s Girl_? If you ask me, you’re both better people for having spent some time apart.” 

Toph crosses her arms, and there’s a familiar challenge in her posture as she waits for Katara to argue with her, to insist that they really _could_ have made it work, if only Katara had been less herself. It’s not an argument Katara can make. 

“Maybe that’s true,” she acknowledges after a pause, “but it doesn’t change anything now. It’s not going to make him any less angry with me.” 

“What makes you think he’s angry with you?” Toph asks, and she seems genuinely taken aback for the first time since the start of their conversation. None of this makes sense to Katara—the reason for Aang’s fury should be obvious—and it feels as though she and Toph have been conversing through old glass, only half clear. 

“He’s over it, Toph,” Katara says, because there’s no other way to put it. “I broke his heart, and he spent three years getting over it, only for me to make everything difficult between us again. Why _wouldn’t_ he be angry with me?”

It’s Toph’s turn to bury her head in her hands. 

“Okay, Sweetness,” she says, sounding utterly exhausted, “you need to talk to him. This is above my pay grade.” 

As is usual with Toph, Katara respects her as much as she wants to strangle her. She’s right: it’s Aang who is hurting, Aang she ought to be talking to now. They’ve skirted around their history for so long, never wanting to look it in the face, and it has led them here. No matter how angry he is with her, Katara needs Aang to know that she’s still his friend, as long as he wants her to be; she needs to tell him before he runs—again—that nothing needs to change if he doesn’t want it to. 

She’s up and moving back towards the town when she hears Toph call after her. 

“You’re really just gonna leave me alone out here, huh? I’m wearing shoes, Katara, are you trying to kill me?” 

* * *

_Her first thought, when she opens the door to see Aang standing on the other side, is that someone must have died. He’s disheveled in a way that’s rare for him, and there’s a slouch to his posture that makes him seem so much smaller._

_“Sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming,” he says, before she can ask what he’s doing there. “I just had to—I didn’t want to be anywhere else.” Katara’s heart is pounding, and she is expecting the worst when he continues, “Mayu and I broke up.”_

_She’s so glad it isn’t something more serious that Katara can’t stop a relieved smile breaking across her face. Aang looks briefly pained before Katara schools her expression back into one of concern, and ushers him inside._

_She sets him up by the fire, a blanket around his shoulders and a hot cup of tea in his hands. He cradles the drink close to his body, absently blowing on it._

_“Do you want to talk about it?” Katara asks, tentatively. She doesn’t want to pry—well, she_ does _want to pry, but she’s old enough now to know when she ought not to push—but he looks so miserable that she doesn’t know what else to do. To her relief, he nods slightly, and Katara settles down next to him, waiting._

 _“I think it shocked her,” Aang says eventually. “She thought we were happy. She thought everything was great, and in a way it was, but…” he trails off, and Katara pretends she doesn’t know why her heart is beating the way it is. Aang looks up at her for a second before staring back down at his tea as though it fascinates him. He takes a deep breath before he continues, “I never felt like I could be_ myself _with her. I was always ‘Avatar Aang’ in her eyes, and Avatar Aang doesn’t make mistakes—he’s never selfish or angry or reckless—and I felt like I had to hide those parts of myself from her. It was both of us, in the end; she refused to see the parts of me that weren’t perfect, but the more she did that the more I hid those parts from her and I just got so_ tired _of it.”_

_With a sickening certainty, Katara realises why Aang came here. He could have gone to any of their friends for sympathy (or, in Toph’s case, some cathartic rock smashing), but he has come to South Pole, to her, because—_

_“I’m so sorry, Katara,” Aang says suddenly. It’s as if the words rip themselves from him, unable to be contained any longer. He’s looking at her properly now, for the first time since he arrived, and Katara doesn’t know when she started wanting to crawl into his lap and bury her face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder, but this is categorically not the moment to explore such a desire. Instead she cuts him off before he can continue._

_“Aang, don’t—” Katara says, half desperate. She doesn’t want to be reminded that he ever loved her, that it’s in the past now. “Like you said: it was both of us. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.” She means it, too; he’d only been a child, with no-one else to look to. Katara hadn’t even realised why his wide-eyed adoration of her had chafed the way it did until years later; she hadn’t realised how much of her energy she’d spent trying to be the girl he insisted she was until she was already bone-tired and sick of it._

_Aang looks like he wants to argue with her, but he also looks so, so exhausted. Katara wonders if he’s slept in the last few days. Did he spend any time at the Air Temple after the break-up, or did he get straight on Appa to come here? Has he eaten? He’s barely touched his tea, and Katara doesn’t think he’d respond any better to a meal._

_“Come here,” she says, extending a hand, beckoning him towards her. With the other, she pats the top of her thigh, and Aang only hesitates for a moment before he curls up—long limbs drawn into his torso—and lays his head in her lap. She feels as much as hears him take a deep, unsteady breath._

_They don’t speak for many long minutes. Katara feels hot tears drop onto her thigh, and if she says nothing it’s only because her own eyes are prickling and there’s a lump in her throat that won’t let her speak. She traces the outline of the arrow on Aang’s forehead—lightly, the tips of her fingers skirting along blue edges—and together they watch the fire burn low._

* * *

Katara’s hand shakes as she opens the door of her home. Aang sits by the crackling fire, elbows on his knees, and his leg bounces with repressed energy. He looks up at her as she enters, but where Katara had expected anger, he looks as terrified as she feels. 

“I’m sorry, Katara,” he says, springing to his feet before she’s even closed the door behind her. She frowns at him, confused, but he’s talking as though he’s only got seconds to live. “I really didn’t mean to—I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, and I’ll go if you want me to, I swear.” 

“Aang, what—” Katara starts to ask, but he screws his eyes shut and barrels on. 

“I just wanted to say that all this—what you’ve built here is incredible, Katara. I’m so glad that I came. I thought about—I thought about not coming, about staying away until I’d—until I could move on, but I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Aang laughs joylessly. “I guess I disappointed you anyway. I know I ought to have a better handle on my feelings because I never want to make you uncomfortable but I guess this all just caught me off guard somehow and I wasn’t _thinking,_ I—”

“Aang, please—” Katara begins again. There’s a traitorous little spark of hope that’s rapidly building to a fire in her chest that she ought to be ignoring, because he _can’t_ be saying what she thinks he’s saying. 

“I know, I know,” he says before she can continue. “Trust me, Katara, I wish things could be simpler between us. I don’t—I don’t think I could wish that I didn’t love you, but I wish it didn’t cause you pain.” 

“It doesn’t,” she blurts, and Aang freezes. He’s looking at her as though she’s grown a second head, and Katara can’t help the joyful little laugh that escapes her as she takes in his startled expression. It’s a bad idea, impulsive and reckless, but Katara doesn’t care as she crosses the room; she grasps the material of his shirt in one hand, tugging him down, while the other cups his jaw as she pulls him into a kiss. 

If he’s shocked—and he is—he only lets it show for a moment before there’s a hand burying itself in her hair, and an arm winding around her waist. Katara rises up onto her tiptoes as Aang pulls her flush against his torso, and she releases his shirt so she can loop her arm around his shoulders. He’s been so careful for the last decade, never touching her for too long, that the firmness of his embrace and the fervour of his kisses surprise her. It’s certainly not unwelcome, though, and it’s only begrudgingly that Katara pulls away to look at him. There’s a blush sitting high on his cheekbones, and he still looks vaguely dumbstruck. 

“I thought you were over me.” Katara says. It’s not what she’d been intending to say, but she seems to have lost the capacity to filter her thoughts. 

“Yeah, so did I,” Aang replies, a little sheepish. “I promise I’ve not just been sitting around _waiting._ I really did let it go, let _you_ go, but recently I—” 

“I know,” Katara says softly, laying her fingers over his lips. The skin is soft against her fingertips, and flushed a deeper pink than usual. “I’m glad. I thought you’d be angry with me. You spent all those years moving on only for me to turn around now and…” Katara waves her hand vaguely, and Aang smiles. 

“And what?” he asks, because he’s terrible. He deserves to hear it, though. 

“And… fall for you,” she says, and she’s barely finished speaking before he’s kissing her again. It’s unco-ordinated and slightly sloppy, because neither of them can stop smiling, so eventually they give up and just hold each other. Katara presses her forehead against the crook of his neck, and he’s warm, and she feels like she’s dreaming. If this were a dream, though, she wouldn’t feel the worried little knot in the pit of her stomach. 

“Hey, Aang?” she says, her voice muffled by the material of his shirt. 

“Hm?” he responds, twirling a strand of her hair absently between his fingers. 

“What if this is a mistake?” her voice is small, but her fear isn’t. At some point they’ll come down from their high and have to face the reality of what this means. Loving someone isn’t always enough to make a relationship work, Katara knows that, and she doesn’t know if she could handle losing him again, going back to the way things were in the aftermath of the war. 

Aang’s hand strokes up and down her back as he considers his response. He hasn’t tensed or pulled away, which is a relief, but Katara still half-wishes she hadn’t spoken. 

“So what if it is?” he asks eventually. “You’re my friend, and I love you, and that’s not going to change if this doesn’t work out. Maybe it would be hard for a while, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering ‘what if’, you know?” He pulls away only as far as necessary to look her in the eye. “I won’t ask you for forever, but I think we deserve to try for now.” 

There are still a thousand anxious thoughts clamouring for attention in Katara’s mind, but her certainty is louder. They’re not children anymore; Katara is her own woman with her own reputation, and Aang knows that, he loves her for that. There’s something in Aang’s eyes that might be reverence, but it’s not the same blind adoration she remembers; where once she had felt trapped, now she is utterly free. They have each accomplished so much in the last years, that the thought of what they might do _together_ has Katara beaming in pure, unrestrained joy. 

“Yes,” she whispers against his lips as she draws him down again, “yes, I think we do.” 

* * *

In two months they will be in the Fire Nation. Aang will cradle Princess Izumi in his arms, his expression soft and awed as she wraps her little hand around his finger. Katara will think that _for now_ could very easily become _forever_. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super interested to know what you big Kataang fans think of this. I hope I did your ship justice!


End file.
